


In the Heat of the Moment

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [9]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fucking, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Self-Lubrication, alpha!hanzo, omega!mccree, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything can happen when on a job, and McCree finds out that working alongside Hanzo isn't as straightforward as it could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> commission fic for potatopotato here on ao3!! thank you for the patronage! i hope you enjoy this!

“You know,” McCree drawled, fiddling with his hat as the archer glowered. “You could at least pretend to be happy that we keep meeting like this.”

Hanzo scowled, as haughty as he ever was. He didn’t look up from sharpening his arrow heads. “Would pretending to be happy aid in completing what is yet to be done?” he scoffed, sparing him a sharp look.

McCree smiled and leaned against the tree, crossing his legs at the ankle. “It sure wouldn’t hurt, I think. What do you gotta do that involves our, ahem, mutual friends in there?” he asked, nodding towards the compound just down the hill. “Can’t say I see you doin’ much vigilante work out here. You’re a long way from Hanamura.”

“And you’re a long way from whatever carnival you call home,” Hanzo shot back.

Rolling his eyes, McCree sighed. “Still after those renegade yakuza fellas, ain’t ya?” he guessed, and when Hanzo’s shoulder stiffened, he laughed. “You got that whole stoic lone wolf thing goin’ for you, but you’re about as readable as rainclouds in springtime, compadre.”

The archer set down his arrows in a clatter, turning his head up to glare at McCree. “Is there a reason you stalked me, or do you just find some joy in harassing me?” he demanded, his hands on his knees.

“You sure don’t like me much, do you?” he chuckled, pushing off the tree to kneel down next to him. “I was wantin’ to ask you if you’d help me storm the place, since you’re here already. No sense in us goin’ stag when we could take a date to this shindig.”

The look of utter intolerance on Hanzo’s face was something to see, and it was only through considerable willpower that he held back the bubble of laughter threatening to burst. Hanzo looked away, glaring daggers at the compound below. The sound of his thoughts turning over was almost audible.

“And you think you’d be any help to me in this?” he asked, looking up at him with something almost like consideration. “Last time I met you, you were anything but inconspicuous. Or helpful.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, I did my best back in Madrid and you know it. It ain’t my fault if you don’t like fightin’ with a partner, partner.”

With a sigh, Hanzo shuffled to his feet, fixing his newly sharpened arrows back into his quiver. A breeze carded through his long hair, ruffling the billowy fabric of his top. McCree had no idea how he didn’t catch a cold walking around half-dressed like that.

“If you slow me down, I’m leaving you behind,” Hanzo threatened, his hot glare making up for the inches separating them.

McCree smiled, showing his teeth. “Wouldn’t ask you to stay,” he said, gesturing towards the base below. “After you. Show me how it’s done.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes but didn’t linger. Shouldering his bow, he turned and ran, a blur against the grass as he flitted as light as a sparrow. McCree admired it for a moment before following, a whole lot less gracefully but just as stealthily, thank you very much.

It was a large building, stretching for a couple acres in either direction. Cold, clinical, and imposing, it definitely looked like the stereotypical bad guy hideout. McCree followed Hanzo’s lead, lingering at his side as he shot a line to the roof, climbing up after him. They dropped soundlessly inside through an air vent, communicating silently which direction to go.

 _This way,_ Hanzo pointed, and McCree shook his head, pointing in the opposite direction.

 _It’s this way,_ he gestured, his brow raising when Hanzo, of course, took ire with that.

“Follow my lead,” he hissed, his voice a barely there breath against his ear. Hanzo had to rise onto his toes to reach. “My intel says it’s this way.”

“Not likely, darlin’,” McCree whispered back, settling a hand on the archer’s shoulder to turn him the way he wanted to go. He caught a whiff of whatever cologne the man was wearing, and it went straight to his head. “That there leads straight to the barracks, and last I checked, those ain’t gonna be occupied this time of day,” he managed. If he came here to kill some men, they weren’t going to be found in the living areas.

Hanzo huffed out a breath that hit his cheek, and for a moment, McCree felt uncomfortably warm. His palms began to sweat a little and he drew his hand away from the archer’s shoulder, settling it on his gun belt.

 _Fine,_ steel grey eyes told him, somehow even as derisive silent as it would have been spoken. _We’ll do it your way._ It made McCree feel a little small, but he shook it off and turned towards the hall, wondering why he felt so wired.

It was miraculous, and incredibly fortunate, that they didn’t meet anyone on the way towards the training facility. Hanzo darted through the halls, somehow finding every nook and cranny large enough to hide in while McCree just tried to keep up. He became hyper aware of him the more they progressed. Every calculated move Hanzo made sent his scent singing through McCree’s senses.

His ninja background was apparent, and if McCree were wanting to be mean, he’d make a comment about Hanzo showing off for the audience he had. It probably wasn’t often that he did any of his work alongside someone else, so he didn’t begrudge him.

Or well, he didn’t until Hanzo froze mid-step, his hand grabbing McCree by the collar to throw him around a corner with no warning whatsoever.

“Wha—” he grunted, but a hand came up and slapped over his mouth, silencing him almost as well as the glare. Instinct had him reaching for his Peacekeeper, but he felt anything but ready for confrontation.

“You were right,” Hanzo muttered, peering carefully around the corner with the bow drawn.

“Try not to sound so surprised,” McCree said, his breath catching in his chest a bit. Sweat prickled his skin and he readjusted his hand on his gun. What the hell was this? Was he sick? He felt fine before, but now he felt like he had gunpowder in his blood.

And of course, Hanzo was oblivious. He knelt down a little lower and knocked an arrow, looking for all the world like a prowling hunter about to pounce. “When I give the word, we will launch the assault,” he murmured, soft as a caress. “I will get in close while you lay cover fire.”

A draft passed by, carrying on it another burst of that scent from before. It smelled like Hanzo, he realized, his nerves alight with heat. It smelled like Hanzo, and it made him want to crumple to the floor.

He’d been on suppressants for so long he’d nearly forgotten the feeling of going into heat.

“Oh god,” McCree grunted, his face burning. “Not now.”

Hanzo looked up, his bow not falling an inch even though he wasn’t looking around the corner at what he was aiming at. “What is it?” he hissed. “McCree, we don’t have time for whatever you’re doing!”

Didn’t he think he knew that? He braced himself with a hand on his knee and tried to breathe through it, though he knew from a lifetime of experience that it wasn’t going to be enough. He needed to leave, McCree thought wildly. There was no way he could be around people right now.

When it didn’t look as if he were going to follow, Hanzo scoffed and scowled, turning back to put a bolt in whatever he saw. “Stay here then,” he sniped, not even sparing McCree a look back, which was just fine with him. “I will go scout ahead and clear the area.”

If McCree got away from this situation with only losing Hanzo’s respect, he might just call that a win. He waited until the archer disappeared around the corner before fumbling for his belt. There was a support column to his left and he forced his legs to move, leaning against it. Did he even have any back up suppressants? It hadn’t been an issue in at least a decade.

There was nothing in his ammo pouch beyond bullets and as bad as it was, he couldn’t see this being desperate enough of a situation to call for that kind of dramatics just yet. He’d wait until Hanzo got back to begin considering going that far. Lord knows he didn’t want anything to do with the fallout of this.

Heat like a fever haze assaulted his head and he had to bite his fist to keep from making an embarrassing noise. Now that he was thinking about him, he couldn’t stop. Where was Hanzo? His hand sneaked down his chest, cupping himself through his pants without his permission. God, he needed to be touched.

The longer he stood here, the worse it was going to get. He knew that, but with Hanzo lurking just down the hall, maybe even on his way back, McCree couldn’t bring himself to move. The omega mindset was already beginning to slip past the failed suppressant. Hanzo was an alpha. He could smell it on him, see it in every move the archer made. He wore command and control like a suit and it was all McCree’s instincts told him to crave.

His hand ached to slip past his waistband and he only resisted by sheer force of will. It was bad enough he was doing this much. Through the haze, he barely heard the sound of impatient footsteps reverberating in the concrete hallway. Hanzo was back, his mind supplied, and his feet began to move towards the sound like a moth to flame. It would all be okay, so long as Hanzo was back.

He’d take care of him. A shudder ran down his spine, another wave of need adding to the wet heat growing between his legs.

“I have eliminated the enemies in the area, with no help from you,” Hanzo called out, too angry to wait until he turned the corner to start harping on McCree. “You had better have a good explanation for-” and then he came into view.

The moment their eyes met, McCree shuddered, rubbing against his hand like a dog desperate for release. “Hanzo,” he tried to say, but it came out as a moan. This was so mortifying. He could feel himself getting wetter by the second.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Hanzo rounded on him, spitting like an angry cat. If he wasn’t so acerbic, it might be cute on him. “This is a mission and, though I know you lack any form of discipline, I should think that your precious Overwatch would have instilled some sort of professionalism in you—”

“Hanzo, I’m hearin’ you loud and clear,” McCree stammered, shaking a bit just from the proximity. Oh god, he could smell him already. “But I’d be much obliged if you’d get as far away from me right now as possible.” It fucking figured, he thought frantically, that of all the people he could be stuck with right now, it had to be the cantankerous archer.

It also figured that Hanzo wouldn’t listen to him at all.

His approach stuttered and his eyes widened, and just like that, McCree knew he knew.

Hanzo’s mouth opened in shock. “You’re in heat?” he exhaled, taking in a quick lungful that had to be steeped in the scent. “You’re an omega?”

There was something dangerous in his voice when he said the word, and McCree bit his lip, praying it wasn’t too late to fix this. He tried to crack a smile and calm the ache that grew the more Hanzo lingered. “You know what they say ‘bout judgin’ a book by its cover,” he muttered, taking a step back when Hanzo came closer. “Figures you’d be an alpha.”

He couldn’t believe his ears, but he swore he heard Hanzo growl. He advanced another step, his bow slipping to the floor in a careless clatter. “You look like you’re in pain,” he spoke, something appraising settling in his eyes that McCree didn’t think he’d ever expect to come from such an aloof man. “Shouldn’t I help you? Would you like that? We are a team. You can depend on me.”

The heat was making it so difficult to think. McCree backed up and his back hit the wall. Through it all, Hanzo advanced on him, his eyes black with need and his nose flaring at another wave of need rose.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” he managed to say, trying to quell the instinct begging him to bare his throat and submit. “Hanzo, I need you to keep your senses and not do what you think you wanna do. We both know you don’t think of me like that. I ain’t exactly your type.”

“But you want me,” Hanzo murmured, his arms bracketing McCree. Like this, he couldn’t look anywhere but at the archer. “I can smell how much you do. You smell so good. Omegas are rare enough that I shouldn’t be picky.”

McCree jumped when Hanzo pressed his face to his neck, licking a hot stripe up his throat. He made a noise, some needy, submissive sound that had no right coming from someone like him, but McCree couldn’t control his body let alone the sounds he was making. How many years had it been since he’d been this hard up?

Hanzo added his teeth to the mix and McCree’s knees went a bit weak, feeling the wetness begin to trickle down his thighs. These pants were going to be ruined, he realized in some far off corner of his mind immune to what was obviously about to happen.

A strong grip locked onto his upper arms. “ _Good god, I can smell how wet you are,”_ Hanzo growled in Japanese, and McCree went red, his time spent fighting crime in Hanamura giving him enough control of the language to parse his meaning.

“Don’t go sayin’ that,” McCree choked, another wave of heat stealing what stability he had left. Given their sizes, McCree dragged them both to the ground. God, he wanted his pants off. His clothes felt so tight, and Hanzo’s skin felt so good.

Fingers threaded through his hair, knocking his hat to the floor. _“You’re mine now,”_ Hanzo said into his ear, dragging him out onto the dirty floor until he was laid out on his back. _“I want you, so you’re mine.”_

There wasn’t much time to argue, if there was any arguing to be done. Hanzo tore at his clothes and McCree couldn’t make himself care enough to fight it. Every touch felt like heaven, every incidental brush of skin making his want scream for more.

Even with the suppressants keeping his heat at bay, he still felt the want, the longing, each time his heat came calling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an alpha claim him. McCree couldn’t remember the last time he let his heat come naturally, shared or alone.

As independent as he liked to be, there was no ruling out the instinctual imperative to be filled and fucked until he was bred.

He fell back and helped navigate his chest armor off, all the while yanking at the top hanging off Hanzo’s shoulder. “Fuck me,” he moaned, soaking through his pants enough that he could feel the slick wetness dampen the floor. “Fuck me, fill me up, Hanzo, I need—”

A hand tangled in his hair, forcing his face into the floor. “You’ll get what I give you, when I choose to give it to you,” Hanzo snarled, digging his nails into his hip as he forced McCree onto his stomach. The pants stuck to his skin but came down easily enough, baring his ass to the alpha above him.

The tone make him shake and even with his face pressed into the floor, he still ground his ass back into Hanzo, too impatient to put up with the stereotypical alpha blustering. There were plenty of reasons he kept his status a secret from his team and the rest, and dealing with frat boy alpha mentality was definitely a part of it.

“You are not very submissive for an omega,” Hanzo growled into his ear, holding him down.

As wild as he felt, McCree still managed to laugh. “You ain’t ever seen an omega like me,” he gasped, rolling back into the archer’s thigh. “You gotta tame this filly if you wanna make me behave, and I ain’t seen no alpha accomplish that yet.”

And just like that, Hanzo thrust his fingers inside him, no warning given at all. McCree choked and scratched at the floor, his body wanting nothing more than to be filled and used. “I don’t anticipate that being hard to do,” Hanzo laughed, and as bad as it was to notice, McCree couldn’t help but think that it was the first time he’d ever heard him do so.

“You got a nice laugh,” he managed to moan, hating how his pants prevented him from really spreading his legs the way he wanted to. “You should do that some more.”

The fingers curled viciously inside him, and he knew it was in response to his words. Slick wetness dripped liberally down his thighs, no doubt making a mess of Hanzo’s hand, and McCree threw back his head to moan.

“I want my omega to behave,” Hanzo murmured, biting possessively at his neck. “So behave.”

Somehow he always knew Hanzo was a traditionalist. And god, if that wasn’t working for him right now. McCree lifted his ass and bore down on the fingers, needing so much more. “You’re gonna be disappointed,” he chuckled breathlessly. “I got no patience for trainin’.”

And just like that, the fingers were removed and McCree was left empty. “We’ll see about that,” Hanzo said, completely at ease with keeping McCree waiting.

He handled it about as well as he could given the circumstances, which was to say, not at all.

“Hanzo, Hanzo, come on,” he gasped, the absence making him shake. “Please, don’t be like this.” He couldn’t just tease his body like that, not when it was so wound up already. Without Hanzo close to him, the cold air of the compound came crashing in, chilling the slick on his inner thighs.

A hand fell to his ass, kneading and assessing. He wondered what Hanzo saw when he looked at him. “Will you behave?” came the cool voice, impossibly cool given the heat burning everywhere he touched.

It was McCree’s turn to growl, though his instincts told him to bare his throat and belly to this alpha. “I sure ain’t gonna throw you off me,” he hissed, looking over his shoulder to glare. “You keep this up and I’m gonna ride you ‘til you knot, ‘cause in case you forgot, I’m still bigger than you, Hanzo.”

He got to see Hanzo’s shocked look, sitting oddly on his normally aloof face. His high cheekbones were flushed with color and McCree chanced a look down, only to see how hard he was. It made his mouth water. He licked his lips, and he knew Hanzo couldn’t look away.

“You really are such an odd omega,” Hanzo breathed, looking away as if he were embarrassed.

“I just don’t put up with your typical alpha bull. So get to gettin’ if you’re gonna do it,” he groaned, burying his face in his arms as another wave of need crashing through him. “I can’t take this much longer.”

Just as he was about to wonder how Hanzo’s control was able to hold up for this long, he felt the hard, blunt head of a cock pressed to his entrance. It made him shake, his eyes closing while he moaned low in his chest. “Just do it,” he spat, hiding his face in his arms. Any more of this tortuous waiting and he’d lose what little sense he’d managed to keep.

The moment Hanzo thrust inside was the moment that McCree lost control of whatever semblance of dignity he still had to his name. He may not act like the stereotypical omega, but it was hard to fight the instinctual submissive nature when he was being dominated by an alpha. Hanzo was lost to his own urges, rutting into him with his hands locked on his hips, holding him in place.

 _“Take it,”_ Hanzo muttered, slipping back into his native tongue. _“Take it all until you’re mine.”_

If he had the breath enough to laugh, he would have. What did he think he was doing? It wasn’t like he could do much else while on his knees and getting fucked by his sorta-sometimes ally. The wet, filthy sound of Hanzo’s cock pounding into his dripping hole filled the air, and McCree choked on a groan.

“Oh, god,” he moaned, rolling back to meet him. “Oh god, you feel so good.” It’d been so long since he’d been on his knees like this.

Hanzo moaned in agreement, running his gloved hands along his bare skin. His fingers dug into his muscle, yanking his thighs even further apart despite the trousers in the way. “So do you,” Hanzo said, in a moment of surprising honestly. “You feel so good. You look perfect like this, taking me.”

McCree wasn’t the type of man to blush at pretty words, but given the situation, he felt justified in turning a bit pink at the praise. Hanzo sank his teeth into the back of his neck, worrying the flesh until he had left a mosaic of bruises along his skin.

 _“I’m going to fuck you until you can only think of me,”_ Hanzo whispered in his ear, and McCree went from pink to red, drowning in his overwhelming need.

It was fast and hard from the start and only got harder the longer they came together. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air and even to McCree, who wasn’t affected so much by pheromones, it smelled heady and intoxicating. Hanzo ground into him, using him, and it felt so disgustingly messy that he doubted he’d ever be clean again.

“Give me it,” he begged, looking back only to have Hanzo grab him by the neck and shove his face into the floor. “Oh god, Hanzo, do it, knot in me, fill me up. I need it so bad.”

“You sound like such a slut when you beg,” Hanzo groaned, and McCree figured he’d be angrier about that if the archer didn’t sound about an inch away from a premature quick draw. Already he could feel him growing inexplicably harder, his thrusts more frantic and less measured. It may have been years since he’d last indulged, but he knew the man was about to knot, whether he wanted him to or not.

Good god, did he want him to do it.

And McCree knew just how to get his way.

He lowered his head and bared his throat, staring up at Hanzo pitifully. “Please?” he pleaded, wrapping his hand around Hanzo’s wrist to bring his gloved fingers to his mouth. McCree may not be as pretty as some omegas, but he knew well enough how to play up the common expectations. “Hanzo, give it to me. I want it.” Licking his lips, he coaxed the fingers inside his mouth, sucking on them as he stared at the archer.

It was so heady feeling the alpha shake, the color so high in Hanzo’s cheeks that he looked fevered. His eyes were black and desperate, his hair mussed and sticking to his cheeks. McCree grinned around the fingers and bit down gently, making the archer growl.

 _“If you want it so badly, then I won’t keep you waiting,”_ he muttered, and though McCree only caught about every third word, he knew enough Japanese to tell that Hanzo wanted to at least make an attempt at maintaining his control over the situation.

If it got him what he wanted, McCree sure as shit wasn’t going to complain.

He could feel it coming, and there was no swallowing the ragged cry he made when Hanzo knotted inside him, stretching him until his eyes rolled back and his arms gave out. Hanzo didn’t slow in his pace at all. His hips kept fucking into him, his cock pulling at him, catching on the rim to keep them locked together. It felt so big. He felt so full.

Thighs trembling, McCree sweated and gasped for air that was suddenly absent. There was no way to breathe with Hanzo leaning over his back, his lips to his ear, rattling off filthy, possessive things in some bastardized mix of English and Japanese.

At least Hanzo was as rattled as he was.

“Never felt so close to you before,” McCree grunted, laughing through his breathless moan of pleasure. “Oh boy, Hanzo, you feel like somethin’ else.”

Hanzo’s forehead met his shoulder and he shivered at the warm puffs of breath that chilled the sweat on his skin. _“You feel like something else entirely. So hot,”_ he sighed, rolling his hips as he came and kept cumming.

The knot held it all in and before long, McCree was panting like he’d run a marathon. His cock was so hard between his thighs. Whining in his throat, Hanzo got the message and reached under him, taking him in his gloved hand.

“What a gentleman,” he managed, and Hanzo retaliated by squeezing him harder, the textured grip on his glove dragging so deliciously along his shaft. Sharp, proprietary teeth sank into his shoulder. McCree came with a muted whine, his metal hand scratching grooves into the cement.

It stuck to his belly, adding to the mess he already was, and through it all, Hanzo held him tight. McCree hadn’t been bred like this in longer than he could remember. He was sore, bruised, aching in places he rightly shouldn’t be aching in, but when Hanzo rolled his hips to test the knot, he was half disappointed it was already over.

There was nothing left to do but wait for the knot to subside, and McCree never could suffer silence well.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” McCree wheezed into his arms, straining under the weight of his own body and Hanzo’s on top of that. “Did you really just-”

“Shut up,” Hanzo groaned, making them both shudder when he shifted an inch. “Aren’t you…”

McCree snorted. “On suppressants? Yeah. Fat lot of good it did today. This ain’t ever happened to me before,” he sighed, embarrassment making his ears burn. “Didn’t think I missed a dose, but I got no idea what else could’ve done this.”

Hanzo was conspicuously silent, and McCree risked the movement to look up and over his shoulder. “What’s got you lookin’ so guilty?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were an omega,” Hanzo muttered, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“That didn’t answer my question at all,” he replied, lifting himself up a bit to chase the archer’s gaze.

Biting his lip, Hanzo looked, for lack of a better word, bashful. He tried to pull out and McCree gasped, groaning at the stretch. “I didn’t think to control myself,” he grated, when he realized he couldn’t run away from this. “When I am fighting or hunting I don’t think to control my pheromones.”

McCree gaped, disbelief thick on his face. “You think you scented me enough that you broke past my meds?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Thought I told you I ain’t puttin’ up with your alpha bull.”

Hanzo’s hair tickled his shoulder when he pressed his face to his back, effectively hiding. “It is not ‘alpha bull,’” he murmured into his skin, his lips brushing softly as he spoke. “It’s simple scent habit.”

“Oh my god,” McCree said, rubbing tiredly at his face. “I can’t believe you just fucked me blind because you can’t make your scent disappear like the ninja you say you are.” He’d ruined his pants because of this, he thought wildly.

Hanzo groaned, shoving off him to get as much space as he could. Given that they were still connected ass to cock, it wasn’t much. “I liked you better when I had fucked you silent,” he sputtered.

Laughing, McCree nearly forgot his discomfort. “Oh darlin’, you ain’t ever gonna get that from me,” he said. “You think you could’ve picked a worse position for this? I ain’t twenty anymore. My knees are killin’ me.”

“You are as whiny as a brat.”

McCree frowned and raised a brow. “Not much of a caring alpha are you? And to think, now you’re stuck with me forever.”

He grunted in discomfort as Hanzo startled like a horse near gunfire, nearly toppling over. “What?” he hissed, grabbing McCree by the hair to yank his head up. “What do you mean by that?”

Grinning, he met his steel grey eyes. “I thought you were the traditional type there, Hanzo. You knotted me, now you gotta stay with me.” He put on his most submissive smile, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Don’t tell me you ain’t serious about the omegas you breed.”

There was a beat of silence broken only by the sharp, horrified intake of Hanzo’s breath.

If McCree could have, he’d have let him stew for longer. He cracked up though, laughing so hard he nearly sent them both to the ground. “Oh my god,” he wheezed, his breath catching when his laughter jostled the knot still lodged firmly inside him. “You shoulda seen your face! You looked like I pissed in your mornin’ coffee!”

“You are incorrigible,” Hanzo said, barely heard over his laughter.

“And you’re a big ol’ sour puss who needs to smile more,” McCree shot back, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Can’t say any of our meetings are ever borin’, that’s for sure.”

“If we weren’t stuck together right now,” Hanzo sighed, guiding them down so they were laying on their sides, spooning like some sort of couple. “We are never speaking of this again. I never want to see your face again.”

He could tell the archer wasn’t serious, and McCree reached for the hand wrapped around his middle, interlocking their fingers. It was easy to forget about the enemy compound and dead bodies littering the hallways like this.

“You’re such a romantic,” McCree chuckled, settling in for a nap. “I can’t wait to see what we get up to next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> before i get a load of comments about it, if you want more mchanzo from me, its gonna have to be in commissions. my chosen creemada is mccree/genji so i wont write it without being paid first. check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and check out my page!! until next time~


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